


Scroscaire

by Whenhopediesyoung



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: (my speciality), F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whenhopediesyoung/pseuds/Whenhopediesyoung
Summary: The entire World seemed to mourn the queen.





	Scroscaire

_The action of rain pouring down or of waves hitting rocks and cliffs._

The entire World seemed to mourn the passing of Queen Sarai. As was right. It seemed colder, bleaker without her warm and steady guidance.  And Viren several feet back from his king, his  _brother_ dared not give into grief. He felt the blame weigh heavy on his shoulders, though that was light in comparison to Harrow's slience.

It was his fault, his greed, his arrogance that had cost their bright friend her life. _No, not friend_ he reminded himself and felt the familiar bitter taste of burnt down morning potion in the back of his tongue. Before the end of her life the two had wed, had been indescribable joyous. And still, even moments after this loss that gaped like a hole, he felt something like hatred toward her. _I loved him first_ , Viren thinks  half drowned in his grief and rage and the thrice-damned rain. Then softer; agonized. _I will love him last_.

So lost in his emotions, twisted and merged like a tree with old dead wood grafted onto it- thorns- he at first did not hear Harrow's request. It pulled him from his confused thoughts- hate and love, relief and despair, anguish and elation fighting for dominance- drew him up, up, up as always. "My king?" He queried, half lost in the dark of his thoughts but moving toward the familiar voice. The familiar warmth and light. He was a grounding rock against the wild whirl of Worlds in Viren's skull.

"I said, Lord Viren, that I would like to be left alone." The rain fell heavier, his sodden robes attempted to drag down his form. The pain in his kings voice was a hilt to the sword, blade made by the despairing anger just underneath. Viren bowed deep, swallowing grief and humiliation, pushing away terror. _Do not leave me alone with only my mind_ , pleads a younger more foolish Viren now he wonders if it is a purposeful cruelty. A punishment. 

"Of course my king." He does not bother to light a candle, the king would never allow it. Instead he takes a long full look at the king, at Harrow, standing tall and pained fingers gently knotted with his sons'. He will never be allowed to forget or to grieve Queen Sarai, not while he lives. He will never be allowed her memory, having been the one who turned her into such. _Where is your magic now mage?_

He leaves them image of the three, ramrod straight, burned into his brain.

_***_

_"May I light a candle?" "Of course."_

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was supposed to be King Harrow's pov.
> 
> In other news I'm intending to do a prompt a day from a Tumblr september writing prompt list. The whole list is from Scribble Me This, if ur interested.


End file.
